Warzone Blues
by Miwa-Miwa GreenLeeLeaf
Summary: The name of the settlement was Blood Gulch. When Lavernius Tucker first moved there (against his will might I add) he didn't expect for the name to become so meaningful. Within one night the boring, lifeless settlement turned into a warzone. Now he and Junior are living with Church, a neurotic and almost perpetually angry owner of sniper rifle, the loony Michael J. Caboose.
1. Roses are Red

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim ownership of "_Red vs Blue"_, the series belongs to the creative group _Roosterteeth_. I am in no way making profit from this story. I am only doing this for shits and giggles.

A/N: I can not stress enough how much I want to get the characterizations right. If the characters feel OOC _please_ let me know!

* * *

"Son of a bitch," Lavernius Tucker yelled as he dived behind a large piece of debris to dodge the flurry of bullets.

"Simmons, what are you doing?!"

"Sorry sir, the bastard just won't stay still," the younger man explained to his greying leader.

"Well, I'd rather you shoot Grif than waste bullets missing our enemy!"

Tucker dared to look over his shield at the maniacs. It had been a crazy, stupid plan that had popped into his head earlier today. Before things had gone to hell in the Blood Gulch settlement there was a market store, which was left untouched by the carnage. None of the other civilians ever went there, too afraid that they'd run into each other and someone would get killed. Tucker and his son had watched it from afar for a few days. All that food and medicine and other supplies going to waste.

Just two days ago Tucker had described it as "Easy pickings" to himself. He ran in, loaded as much as he could into his bag, and ran back to his house. The house he and Junior had been forced to move into just a few months ago. The house that had miraculously survived the bombs that dropped from the sky, just like the market. He really had been lucky. He had swiped enough supplies to keep him and his son alive for awhile, but then he got cocky, not realizing someone could have moved in with that one day of absence. Adding the fact that Lady Luck is complete bitch, it of course turned out that a band of three trigger happy morons _just happened_ to claim the market as their home base.

Tucker had snuck through the back and grabbed some more stuff, only for the fat one in the orange shirt to see him. Then there was bullets, lots of bullets, and running… lots of running. Towards his house. Towards his house where his one year old, half-alien son was hidden with three whack-jobs after him. Sure Junior's particular species developed past infancy faster than humans but Junior was small, and he stood no chance against these fucktards if something happened to Tucker himself. And boy did Tucker feel like a _massive dumbass _for leading them this close. He felt a wave of relief when the fat one started talking.

"Look, we chased the little bastard, and he got away. Why don't we give up, and go home? Nobody can blame us."

Then the leader spoke and that relief was squashed, "It's that kind of attitude that'll make you starve! Which sounds alright at first, but then that implies I'll starve too!"

"So…" Simmons started, "We're gonna keep looking for him?"

"That's right!"

Tucker banged his head against the piece of fallen concrete. He looked around, trying to find an escape route when he noticed it. A searing pain had attached itself to him. His eyes darted downward and he saw a small puddle of blood forming on the ground. Lifting his now torn shirt up he looked down at the wound that had taken residence on his dark skin. One of the bullets had just grazed the dark skin of Tucker's torso. Nothing fatal… yet. The two younger members of the group began talking as they fakely searched for Tucker

"Hey, Grif."

"Yeah?"

"Why are we here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, we're chasing this guy down, right? But he just took some food, _Perishable food_, and he's probably just as desperate as us."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well… it's just… If some little kids snuck in for food… are we going to be shooting at them too?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Then why did we just run halfway across town after _this_ guy?"

"Hey man, desperate times call for desperate measures. I might not be willing to shoot a kid but - Son of a bitch!"

Both Simmons and Tucker echoed his sentiment in unison, "Son of a bitch!

Both his pursuers and Tucker himself fell to the ground as bullets flew through the air. Tucker looked around desperately trying to figure out where the gunman could be, fearfully wondering if his cover was even cover anymore. Just when he was about to give up hope an intercom from a nearby warehouse buzzed to life.

"Hey, League of Menstrual Cockmunches! Get the fuck out of my territory!"

The leader spoke up, "Or what, you soon to be blue corpse!?"

"How 'bout a few rounds of led up the ass!"

Tucker couldn't help himself and shouted, "Bow Chicka Bow Wow!"

Grif groaned in frustration, "The bastard was over there this whole time!?"

"C'mon you hiding coward! What'll you do?"

Simmons spoke up then, "Uh… Sarge, I don't think yelling at the guy with a sniper rifle is a good idea."

The older man huffed, "That's actually a valid point, Simmons. Retreat!"

Tucker let out a sigh of relief as he watched the maniacs run off. That is until the voice on the intercom shouted at him as well.

"That includes the fucker with the satchel," announced the sniper as more bullets flew through the air.

Tucker knew when he wasn't wanted. Clutching at his wound he ran towards the direction of his house.


	2. Violets are Blue

Butch Flowers, an intimidating looking man at first sight, sat on the porch while the little alien chewed on an abandoned leather shoe next to him. The elderly man chuckled at the little guy when he stopped briefly to look up at him, only to return his attention to the poor shoe. Flowers had seen the odd pair while he was out scavenging previously. Back during the first two days, before things seemed really bad. Then this area had been bombed. When doing surveillance Flowers had initially worried that there were no survivors, only to find both father, son, and even their house miraculously standing tall among the rubble. He had meant to make contact with them previously, but things kept coming up with his runaways. Things that couldn't be left unchecked, and the two survivors were left alone for almost a week. Flowers was brought out of his regretful thoughts when he heard weak shouting.

"H-hey, what're you doing… near my kid!"

Flowers noticed the blood on the father's shirt right away. He got up and tried to approach but much to his surprise the injured man pulled out a chunk of metal from his satchel. At first Flowers thought the man would try to blunger him with it, instead an odd blade made of light erupted from the base.

"Alien tech… understandable all things considered."

Holding the sword up weakly the man shouted, "Leave!"

Calmly Flowers shook his head, "Easy there fellow, I'm just helping you out."

"Oh really," the father asked sarcastically.

"That's right. Now fair warning, this might hurt a bit."

Before the swordsman could even blink flowers whacked him on the side of his neck. The man stumbled a bit before falling to his knees, the blade of the sword disappearing as it's master fell into darkness.

* * *

Looking down at _it_ Church snarled, "What the fuck _is_ this thing?"

Sighing Flowers picked the small alien up off the ground, "_He_ is that man's son."

"How the hell does that work?"

Flowers shrugged, truly not knowing. It could be that the man who was currently in their makeshift medical bay simply adopted the small grey alien. Although said man didn't seem like the responsible sort. Nor did he seem to be very good fatherly material. What ever the case they were both here now.

"Alright Church, when he wakes up he might be a little… frightened. So try to not intimidate him too much, okay?"

Church nodded reluctantly, "Yes, sir."

Flowers wasn't sure why he was put in charge of Church and the other one. However he was happy about it, and knew he had to keep them safe. Church's standoffish behaviour made it difficult to do so even before the other one joined their group. It was even more difficult now that they found themselves in an active war zone. The young man would shoot at anyone who got too close to the warehouse. The building was well fortified, so there really was no need for that. Just a few nights ago Flowers had brought back a small family, offering them food and shelter. Both parents had particular skills that would have been useful but Church's behaviour scared them off by their second day.

Thrashing could be heard from the medical bay. The small alien quickly leaped out of Flower's arms and ran towards his frantic father. Church raised his sniper up but Flower's quickly subdued him. Once he was sure Church wouldn't do anything he walked into the medbay. The second he opened the door he was bombarded with the other man's voice.

"Who the fuck are you and where the fuck am I?!"

From behind him Flowers could hear Church, "Will you shut the hell up? You're giving me a headache!"

"Not until someone answers my questions!"

Pushing past Flowers Church walked up to the man, sizing him up and glared down at him with furious green eyes, "He's Flowers! He saved your life, so be grateful, get your little freak, and get the fuck out of my warehouse!"

"Church" Flowers said with a warning tone. Church's head whipped around and he glared at flowers. He huffed and left the room, but not before giving the father another disapproving look.

As Church walked away Flowers began to speak, "Sorry about him. He's not very good with strangers."

The man gave Flowers an incredulous look, "No duh, man!"

Flowers laughed, "Yes, it's been a bit of a problem. So, what's your name?"

The dark skinned man stuttered, "Oh…. um, I'm Tucker,"

He then gestured to the small alien that was nudging his leg, "and this is my kid, Junior."

"If you don't mind me asking, how?"

"Um…. That's a really long story."

Flowers looked at him expectantly but Tucker just shook his head in embarrassment, "Like, a _really_ long story."

The older man nodded in understanding. Looking down at Tucker's bandaged torso he asked, "How you holding up there? You did lose quite a bit of blood. Not enough to be fatal mind you but…"

"Y-yeah I'm good now. Thanks for that by the way."

"You going to leave?"

"I don't know… maybe," Tucker said thoughtfully as he looked in the direction

"Take a look around at the very least," Flowers suggested as he walked away. Remembering something he turned back around, "You're stuff is under the cot you were sleeping on, by the way."

* * *

Tucker watched the man walk away. He looked to his right and his left a few times and he rocked on the soles of his feet. Then he looked down at his son questioningly. Junior made a honking noise before walking off. Tucker quickly dove under the cot and grabbed his bag before chasing after Junior. As they walked Tucker dug through his bag, trying to make sure the man, Flowers, hadn't taken anything. To his surprise everything, including his sword, was still there.

Junior made another honking noise, bringing his father back to reality. Looking around Tucker realized that they had entered a hallway at some point. But that wasn't the important thing. No, the important thing was that there was a vending machine. A vending machine that's glass was conveniently already broken.

"Sweet!"

After grabbing several snacks Tucker continued to follow his son around the halls. Eventually they found themselves in a small kitchen area. As they sat at the table eating Tucker mulled over the idea of staying. He ended up writing the pros and cons on a napkin with a pen Junior had miraculously found.

Pros

Less likely to get raided

Lots of room

Supplies

Cons

Not sure if that Church guy can be trusted

He looked at the napkin for a minute. Tucker truly had no clue whether or not the sniper would shoot him over the slightest provocation. Plus the fact that he called Junior a freak… So that meant he didn't look to fondly at aliens.

Shaking his head Tucker looked over at Junior, "So, you wanna explore the rest of this place?"

"Honk!"

* * *

Tucker was more than a little annoyed when Junior's wanderings brought them straight to the man he was trying to avoid. The feeling was clearly mutual on Church's end. Church fixed Tucker a green eyed glare as Tucker himself tried to ignore the other man's presence. After all, there was a pretty lady in front of him.

"Name's Tucker. What about you sweet cheeks?"

"My name is Sheila, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Church shook his head, "Don't indulge the idiot, kid."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Yeah, we're just having some friendly conversation."

Church scoffed, rolled his eyes, and walked over to a decaying bookshelf on the other side of the room. Sheila watched Church finger through the few books on the shelf for a moment. She then looked back up at Tucker.

"Church does not seem to trust you very much."

"Does he trust anyone ever?"

"He trusts Mr. Flowers a great deal."

Church's voice rang out from the bookshelf, "I'm right here you know!"

"Would you like to leave," Sheila asked as picked out a book.

Walking towards the couch he scowled and said, "No."

"Would you like us to leave?"

Sitting down he shrugged, "I couldn't care less. Just stop talking about me as if I'm not here."

"Sorry, I didn't realize it bothered you."

"Sure you didn't."

* * *

When Tucker asked what Sheila did for fun the last thing he expected to see was a tank. But there it was, sitting there in all it's broken glory. He let out a whistle as he looked at the war machine. Sheila had almost immediately begun working on the tank, though what she was doing may have been pointless for all Tucker new.

"Where did you guys even get this?"

Shrugging as she checked the treads Sheila said, "This was here when we claimed the warehouse. This tank is Scorpion Class. I hope I can repair it one day, I'd just love to fire the main cannon."

Tucker laughed nervously, "You must be pretty smart to even try and fix this thing."

"I would like to think so."

"So, statistically… what would you say mine and Junior's chances are if we left this little group."

"Very low."

Sighing Tucker scratched the back of his head, "...Right. Well, what are the chances that Sniper-Boy will shoot me down if I look at him funny."

"Zero percent. Church is a horrible shot," she laughed.

For the first time in over a week Tucker let out a _real _laugh.

* * *

"So, are you planning on staying," Flowers asked.

It had taken some time but Tucker managed to find his way back to Flowers. The man was working on rewiring an old radio. Or so it seemed. When Tucker had passed by the warehouse earlier that day, it had seemed average. Then it turned out there was a sniper inside. Then he found out there were also two other people inside. Not only was there people inside but there was a working medbay, a dysfunctional tank, but also enough rooms that it seemed this wasn't an ordinary warehouse. It almost seemed like it was, in reality, a safe house. Whatever the case, it had Tucker's attention.

"For tonight at the very least."

"Probably a good decision. It's dangerous at night."

He lead Junior and I to a room with a punch of mattresses on the floor. Looking around I saw that Sheila was already asleep, curled on the one mattress in the corner. Church's sleeping area was distanced from the other beds. There were six mattresses, including Sheila's, on the left side of the room. They were all packed closely together so that there wasn't space between them. Church meanwhile had seemingly pushed his own mattress to the opposite of the room, leaving a great gap between himself and everyone else.

As Tucker laid down he was well aware that Church was watching him. By all appearances Church was still reading the book from earlier, yet Tucker could tell the other man was sending burning glares over at him every once in awhile. Flowers, Sheila, and Junior remained blissfully unaware of the negative tension that was growing in the room. It wasn't long after they fell asleep did Tucker do the same. Church did no such thing. Flowers had turned the light in the room off, making it impossible to continue reading. When he was sure the others had fallen asleep he got up, and silently crept out of the room in search for a light source.

* * *

A/N: Sheila is Asian American in this story, because whenever I imagined her as a human she just… kinda was in my head. I don't know if this'll make any sense to anyone, but when I make up characters on my own I usually make their personality and backstory first, and their appearance second. For example, one of the main protagonists in my work-in-progress graphic novel ended up being of African descent (even though I originally planned on the main family being Asian back during very early concepts), because that's just how she appeared in my head when I finally sat down and started designing her physical appearance after doing everything else.

So here's Sheila, who is _not_ a tank in this AU. Logically I'd have to give her a human physical appearance. So when my mind rolled the dice to see how'd she look in this story it landed on an Asian American woman who is a few inches taller than Church's shoulder, a bit heavy set around the waist, and strong in the shoulders.

Fans designing Sheila as a human seem to, in general, make her a larger girl in reference to being a tank. However, I've seen her portrayed as being very skinny as well. There really doesn't seem to be a major consensus of how she looks in fanon, so sorry if my version doesn't match up with yours.

Side Note: I don't know why but Sheila and Church ended up having a brother-sister type of relationship.


	3. Gulch Avenue

A/N: I've been getting some positive feedback if all the favorites and follows are any indication! Now, don't forget to review with any constructive criticism if you have any.

* * *

Church pushed one of the exit doors open ever so slightly. He held the two water jugs in his hands with a tight grip as he peered outside. It didn't seem dangerous, but he knew better than to just run outside without confirmation. So he waited for Flowers' signal.

* * *

Tucker wasn't amazed by the set up. In fact, it was a rather standard security system. There were cameras place vicariously within the warehouse and outside as well. Still, it was another benefit to staying with the odd group. He looked at the monitors, seeing all the viewpoints they had. As he did this Flowers spoke into a walkie talkie.

"You're all clear Church."

Both men watched as their companion ran out into the open. Church made his way towards the water filter, uncorked the tab, and let the the now clean rainwater fill the jugs. Tucker stared at the protective gear the green eyed man was wearing.

"Hey Flowers, where'd you guys get the chest plates?"

"We found them here in the warehouse. If I go looking I bet I could find one for you as well!"

"That would be a relief."

"Coming back in," Church announced through the walkie talkie.

Responding Flowers said, "Right, we'll meet you there."

* * *

Church sneered at Tucker as he walked into the room with Flowers. Tucker confused him greatly. He seemed just as cowardly as any of the other people Church had scared off, yet he continued to stay. On his third day at the compound he had pissed Church off enough that the man ended up looking down the barrel of a gun. Instead of the scream of fear that Church had been expecting... Tucker just grinned at him audaciously and spoke.

"Whoa! Calm down, man. We're all on the same team."

The statement had caught him off guard, caused Church to flinch back even. He didn't like people just inserting themselves where they weren't wanted. What reason did Church have to _trust_ them? That's right, none. Still, he had huffed in irritation, and stormed off. Things were still tense between them, much to the annoyance of Flowers and Sheila.

Flowers sighed when he saw Tucker give Church what could only be described as a "shit eating grin" and rubbed the back of his head. He opened his mouth to say something that would hopefully calm both of them down. However, the green eyed man simply stormed off before Flowers could even try.

"Damn, what _is _his problem?"

"Church has… been through a lot," Flowers tried to explain.

"Yeah, like what?"

Flowers shook his head, "I'm afraid I don't have the right to elaborate on that."

Tucker groaned and threw back his head dramatically. Flowers smirked at the younger man, "Why are you so curious about all of us? Boredom?"

"You fucking kidding me, man? What isn't there to be curious about when I'm living with three weirdo strangers who just happen to own a warehouse with frickin tank hidden inside!"

"Yes, well... we're all polite enough not to ask how you were fortunate enough to become a father."

"I-Uh-I mean - Just shut up!"

Flowers held back a laugh as Tucker stormed off as well.

* * *

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, but do you mind huddling up fellas," Flowers asked as he walked into what Tucker had quickly dubbed, "_The Secret Tank Room_."

The scene before him was already a norm for the odd group. Sheila was dutifully attending to a aforementioned tank. Attempting to fix what she could with what little she had. Church acted as her assistant, handing her tools as she requested. He was also busy threatening Tucker and Junior as father and son ate old junk food. Tucker had long since lost the majority of his fear of Church, while Junior didn't seem to have any to begin with.

"Be right there Captain Flowers," Tucker said as he tried to devour his food as fast as he could. Flowers smiled slightly at the nickname. Church on the other hand got up immediately and walked over to Flowers silently, his usual frown intact.

Concerned Flowers asked, "How are you adjusting to Blood Gulch, Church."

"Oh you know, minus the heat and the fact that it's become a warzone, I'm doing just great," he said sarcastically.

Flowers gave him a rather parental look, and Church sighed in frustration, "Seriously though, it's hot here. Not excruciatingly hot but I guess I'm OK. Could really use a cig..."

"Alright, if you have any problems, be sure to let me know."

"Um… OK," Church agreed, feeling more than a little awkward.

Just then Tucker ran up to them, "Sorry for the hold up!"

"Alright, you're both here. Now I can ask you my favor."

In almost perfect unison the younger men said, "Favor?"

"Yes, I would like you both to go, _together_, to Gulch Avenue and survey the area…. and the people in it."

"Gulch Avenue? Wait, isn't that where the department store those douchebags are living is?"

"Yes, the _Extraordinary League of Red_, as they call themselves."

Church explained further, "Yeah, they were kinda like a gang before this whole mess started. Their leader and Flowers were big rivals, since he was a cop."

"Trying to apprehend them was a delight. Did you know they once managed to steal an armored cash transport car? Still not sure how they acquired that helicopter..."

Tucker looked to Church, "Are they _actually_ that dangerous?"

"Anyone and everyone can be dangerous, Tucker."

Sheila chimed in, "Including me! Those silly little men are terrified of me for some reason."

"It's probably because you're a tough as bitch," Tucker grinned.

Under his breath Church mumbled, "Like all the other women in my life…"

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

* * *

Tucker sat there, back against a boulder and bored out of his mind. He couldn't actually see what the Red's were doing. Church could, but he had a sniper with a scope… or whatever that was called. Hell if Tucker knew, he was a lover not a fighter! Tucker had found things to entertain himself after several attempts at spying on the Reds. Like drawing on the rock wall with a tiny rock. Or looking up at the sky and trying to delude himself that the one solitary, puny cloud currently in the sky looked like something other than a cloud. Or playing eyespy out of desperation.

"I spy something… brown."

"Is it another fucking rock?"

Tucker sighed in defeat, "Yeah," he paused for a moment before continuing his thought, "Man, the desert sucks!"

"Not really a desert, just the dry season."

"If it's a dry season how come we see rainclouds every few days?"

"Hell if I know how this crappy planet's weather system works!"

Tucker let some time pass. Even he knew not to get Church too angry. Especially after the incident where Church nearly blew his brains out. Sure Tucker hadn't acted scared at the time, but inwardly he'd been begging himself to not piss his pants. Tucker wouldn't call the other man a psycho per say. Just a paranoid spaz who had anger issues… and guns… several guns. Sure Church couldn't really do long distance shooting, but if he was close to a target and replaced his practically iconic sniper rifle with a pistol he was golden. Like the time he managed to shoot the "space-rat" that had gotten into the warehouse in the eye. Blew the things fucking head off. Tucker decided enough time had probably passed and spoke again.

"What are they doing now?"

"The same fucking thing they were doing every other time you asked! They're just sitting around and talking while they guard their perimeter."

Evidently he hadn't given Church enough time to cool down. Tucker ignored this and tried again.

"What are they talking about?"

Church let out a very long, very frustrated groan as he banged his head against the boulder. Apparently giving up on even trying he perched his rifle against the boulder, and turned around so that he could lean against it as well. He ran his hand through his messy black hair. Almost immediately he pulled his hand away in disgust, and started waving his hand in front of him in a futile attempt to undrench it. To put it bluntly, both men were sweating balls, and their chest plates weren't helping. Especially in Tucker's case. The stupid thing was heavy and about three sizes too big. The only reason he was wearing it was because he didn't want to be a bullet sponge.

Tucker looked to side nervously at the green eyed man, "So…"

"Do you ever shut up," Church asked, cutting Tucker off before the man could even think up a proper sentence.

"Fuck you! I'm just trying to be social. We are a team after all!"

With that Tucker got up, and very nearly walked back into the secret tunnel that lead to the vantage point. However, he stopped once he remembered who would be waiting for them. Flowers, Sheila, and Junior. Flowers had taken him and Junior in when it would have been easier to just kill them. Eliminate competition for food, water and shelter. But he didn't. Which was why it was so clear that these reconnaissance trips were at least partially an attempt on the older man's part to get him and Church to be slightly less likely to murder each other in their sleep.

Sighing Tucker put his hands on his hips and looked to the ground for a bit. He turned around to face Church, and saw that the man was still on the ground. Church was looking to his left. If his unfocused eyes were of any indication, he was lost in thought. Begrudgingly Tucker walked back over to the man, and extended his hand. Offering to help the other man up. When Church noticed this he gave Tucker quite the offended look. Then he smacked the hand away, got up and walked away.

As the man disappeared into the tunnel Tucker could hear him muttering, "We're not a team."

Tucker hung his head for a few seconds, then shrugged it off. At least no one could say he hadn't tried.

* * *

"OK Junior, can you tell me what this is," Tucker asked his son as he held up the small, withered, red fruit up for his son to see.

The small alien spawn tilted his head to side so he could get a better look at the object. Tucker faintly felt bad for his son. In his mind it must have really sucked to have eyes on the side of your head! Poor kid would probably have to deal with chronic neck pain once he got older. As Tucker thought about the whole neck thing Junior opened up his mouth and…

"Blarg!"

Tucker hung his head in an almost animated manor. Looking back up to his son Tucker gave a halfassed smile, "That was… really close kiddo!"

Junior made a happy chattering noise as his father gave him the apple. The little alien ran out of the sleeping quarters with it gleefully. Tucker watched him go, unsure if his son was going to actually eat it or play with it. Junior's species weren't exactly big on fruit after all... or vegetables… or anything that wasn't raw meat. A source of food that the group had run out of a while ago. Unless you count the space-rat Church had killed. Remembering his son eating the thing actually made Tucker a little nauseous. The feeling subsided when a voice spoke up.

"Why do you even try with that _thing_?"

Tucker looked over at Church with a glare that matched the other man's scowl. He was getting real sick of the man's attitude. Especially the way Church acted towards his son. What had Junior ever done to him. In Tucker's opinion, people could hate him all they want, but mess with his kid? You're dead. Church had made it abundantly clear that he wasn't above hurting Junior. What with the whole threat of breaking the kid's neck when the little guy had tried climbing onto Church's lap. That was Church's own fault, what with reading all the time. Junior had just wanted to read the story too! In fact, Tucker genuinely believed that if Flowers wasn't around, Church would have murdered both of them in their sleep just to make his life easier.

"What's with that look," Church asked, as if he truly didn't understand what he did wrong.

"You're an asshole," Tucker scoffed.

With and almost devilish grin Church countered, "And you're a dumbass."

* * *

"Eyes up here, Mister!"

Tucker shook his head frantically, "I wasn't - I mean not this time! I um…"

He trailed off when Sheila folded her arms and half pouted, half glared at him. Tucker knew not to tick her off. The first time he'd not so subtly checked her out he'd gotten an earful from Church. The second time Sheila herself decked him. It was depressing really. She'd been so oblivious to his flirtation before. However, this time he honestly hadn't been looking at her chest, he'd just been lost in thought. It just turned out that he was looking in that particular direction. Sheila, thankfully for Tucker's health, seemed to realize this.

"You still mad at him?"

"Yeah, but you're probably sick of us complaining about each other."

"That statement would be _more _than one hundred percent correct, but I'll listen anyway."

"He's just… such a fucking cockmunch."

Sheila went back to reading the tank's blueprints as she spoke, "Only eighty percent of the time."

"Well I'd love to see the other twenty percent!"

Sheila stopped reading the blueprints suddenly. She gave Tucker a thoughtful look, then her eyes were darting somewhat frantically around the room. The she looked at Tucker again with an expression that could only be described as worried shitless. Then she let the reason be known.

"Where has your child gone?"

* * *

Tucker and Sheila ran around the warehouse. Well, it was more like Tucker was zipping in and out of every room in a desperate search for his son while Sheila was doing her best to keep the father from getting more lost than his child seemingly was. Yes, Tucker had been with them for several weeks now. Despite that the man had far from seen every room in the warehouse. Although Sheila suspected that he might once the day is over.

"Honk!"

"Will you leave me alone?!"

Tucker froze in place when he heard the two voices. Sheila sighed and grabbed Tucker by the wrist. As she dragged him forward she wondered briefly if all parents were as criminally stupid as this man. Instead of rounding the corner she let go of his wrist, and leaned against the wall to listen as Flowers began to speak.

"Aw come on, Champ! The little guy just wants to look at the pictures."

"One, this book doesn't have any pictures! Two, I don't like kids!"

"Blarg!"

"Especially not little alien monstrosities!"

Before Sheila could stop him Tucker went running into the room shouting, "Oh, that is it," and ready for a fight. Church had been leaning against a pillar, book in hand. All in all in no position to counter when Tucker came hurdling towards him. Both men went to the ground instantly, rolling around in a ball of violence. Punches were thrown, and venomous words with promises of great amounts bodily harm were shouted on both sides. Church eventually gained the upper hand, pinning Tucker to the ground. He mercilessly started punching Tucker in the face. Blow after blow. Church even kept punching after blood from a new cut on the man's forehead started to cover his eyes.

Then it was over. Flowers had managed to grab Church by the underarms, and yanked him off of the other man. Tucker moved to a crouch and attempted to follow in attempt to get one more punch against Church, but he felt a weight against his back. Before he knew it he was pinned to the floor again. Except this time it was Sheila, and his face was pressed roughly against the floor.

"Sheila, usually I love when women straddle me, but now really isn't a good time!"

"Neither is it a good time to be trying to kill each other!"

* * *

Later that day Tucker found himself looking into a hand mirror. While it had stopped bleeding the cut on his forehead was still very obvious. He cringed, hoping it wouldn't scar. Negotiations and picking up chicks once this whole mess was over would be a lot harder if it did. The cringe turned into a wince when pain shot through his bruised face. He set the mirror to the side of the mattress and laid down. Junior made a low, sad noise as he slept close to his father. The whole ordeal had stressed the alien out enough that he'd fallen asleep almost as soon as he'd touch the mattress. Tucker turned his head towards the door when he'd heard voices.

"If you guys would just give me back my pack," Church's voice said loudly, but was cut off by Flowers'.

"You know we can't do that."

Then something crashed and there was a lot of yelling between the two men. Then things got quiet for a long while. Tucker almost managed to fall asleep during the absence of sound, at least until Church slammed the door open and stormed over to his mattress. Tucker watched Church for a long moment. The man was faced towards the wall, away from where everyone else would be soon. In the darkness Tucker could make out movement of one of Church's hands twitching violently. It was then that Tucker understood at least some of the man's behaviour. Despite that Tucker couldn't view him as much more than an asshole.

* * *

"Five more minutes," Tucker groaned as Sheila tried to wake him up. Instead of stopping she simply shook the man harder.

"Wha - OK! OK! I'm up," he shouted as he rubbed his eyes.

"Something is wrong with him, I don't know how to help and I can't find Flowers," Sheila said so fast that Tucker almost didn't understand her. The worry in her voice was uncanny compared to her usual monotone. It was enough for Tucker to come fully to his senses.

She dragged him over to Church, who was still laying on the mattress. The man was awake, but he didn't seem all there. Sheila shook him a couple of times, but his virtually dead eyed glare didn't leave the wall. Tucker noticed that he was practically in a fetal position, limbs just a bit too loose for it to truly be considered one. Then Church abruptly began to clutch at his stomach as he tried to hold back a pained groan. He wasn't able to suppress it in it's entirety, resulting in harsh high-pitched intake of breath.

Then his stomach made itself known. The noise it made couldn't be defined as a grumble, or even a growl. It was more like a howl, but not like a dog or wolf. It was homogeneous to every supernatural horror that Tucker would often hear in thrillers. Tucker cringed at the noise - It even sounded painful. As he watched Church curl in on himself and claw at his stomach Tucker felt, for the first time, real honest to god sympathy for the man.

He watched the scene, cringing the whole time, "Man, this is fucked up."

Then it hit Tucker like a freight train. He'd never seen Church eat, not once.

Quickly he pulled Church up into a sitting position and leaned the man against the wall. Tucker patted him on the face lightly, trying not to aggravate the black eye he himself had caused as he tried to get the man to focus. When he continued to stare off into space Tucker turned to Sheila.

"He needs food."

"Food," she parroted with a perplexed expression.

"Yeah… Yeah, but not a lot. I mean, if someone eats too much when they haven't been eating for a long time they can get sick, right? At least that's what this one movie I watched said… Might not be right about that at all."

When Sheila just continued to give him that confused look, as if to say 'How would I know?' he sighed, "He's going through withdrawals, right?"

She nodded.

"Alright, he might respond better to junk food then. Maybe that's why the hunger pains are so bad."

Tucker looked away from her for a moment to check Church again. He wished he hadn't. He also wished Sheila hadn't left them alone together. The man still had the dead eyed look going on. Except now he was looking directly at Tucker, clearly trying to focus on something other than the wall. It was unsettling to say the least. Tucker looked away from him, and out the door. He was inwardly praying for Sheila to magically return. He'd seen people go through withdrawals before. He knew how bad they could get. So with this knowledge he really, really wished he hadn't been put into this situation.

Tucker's head whipped back towards Church when the other spoke, "H-hey…. dumbass..."

Tucker scoffed. He was pretty damned sure that Church hadn't even made an effort to remember his name. The green eyed man had probably been hoping that Tucker would have run for the hills with Junior in tow. That or spontaneously die in some manor that would have been so overly complicated it would have crossed the line between tragic and funny. Tucker managed to put this behind him and held out three fingers, asking Church to count them.

"I don't know… eight… twelve…?"

Any other time Tucker might have laughed at the improbability of twelve fingers, but here it wasn't funny. In fact, this whole situation caused him a type of discomfort that he'd rather live without. So he sat there, watching the other man come in and out of reality as he waited for Sheila to return.

* * *

Thankfully the woman did return, and with Flowers following close behind. Sheila quickly climbed onto Church's mattress and kneeled in front of him. She took out some cheap, plastic wrapped cinnamon bun that probably originated from one of the countless from her pocket. She unwrapped the thing, and immediately tried to shove it into the man's face. Her own face scrunched up in worry when he didn't immediately take it. Instead of helping Tucker pulled Flowers, who was holding Junior at the time, to the side.

"Look, I've seen withdrawals before. Nasty ones. But never this bad! Hell, I'm starting to think he'd be better off if you just gave him the stupid cigarettes!"

"If I do he'll just smoke himself to death!"

Tucker jumped back. While he wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been with the group anymore, he did know that the five of them had been together for what felt like a long time. Never once in this time had Butch Flowers showed anger. He was, all in all, a nice guy. So the sudden change from the usual calm to outright rage had been startling to say the least. That look in Flowers' eyes just shouldn't be possible, it was uncanny. However, as quickly as the anger had appeared, it had also disappeared.

Flowers sighed and rubbed the back of his head, "Look… once he gets through this episode he'll have an easier time with it. Let's just focus on helping him through it."

As he said this Tucker noticed Sheila making a rather interesting display of herself.

Tearing off the tip of the sugary spiral she said, "Look, like this. Do you remember?"

The second the little bit of food entered her mouth she scrunched up her face once more, this time in disgust. Church took the bun in his shaking hands, struggling just to hold it. He imitated her and took a bite. Then another, and then another. Soon he was devouring the thing without discrimination. It looked like he wasn't even taking time to chew, which Flowers noticed.

"Careful, Champ! Are you trying to choke?"

As this went on Sheila spat the tiny piece of food she had demonstrated with into a wastebin. After she did this she started making a disgusted gagging noise. Much like to one children make after being forced to take cherry flavored cold medicine by their parents.

Tucker felt stupid for just then realizing the depth of the weirdness he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

A few days after the event Church and Tucker found themselves returning from another uneventful spying trip. Tucker tried not to concentrate how their feet caused echoing noises within the tunnels. It always made him paranoid that there was someone else in there. He was so lost in his attempts to ignore the sound that he failed to notice that Church had stopped just a few feet in front of him. The resulting collision with the man's back left Tucker rubbing his nose in pain.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, whatever," he said as he moved past Church, ready to get back to the safehouse… warehouse… whatever-house. He really didn't care what it was, he just wanted to get back already. Before he'd gotten more than a few feet Church's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Tucker."

He turned to face the man, genuinely confused at the sudden use of his name. "Um…Huh?"

" 'Tucker' is your name, isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

Church nodded, before walking past Tucker, As he walked away he said, "Thanks, jackass."

Tucker chuckled, "Don't mention it, ya' dick-biscuit!"

* * *

A/N: So... Any of Red Team's heists mentioned after this will more than likely be loosely based on the Roosterteeth GTA videos. Those things are comedy gold.

A/N2: Can you imagine what a raving little asshole cannon Church would be if he were going through nicotine withdrawals. I've seen people go through some rather dramatic ones before. Let me tell you, it's not pretty. Due to Church's origins in this 'verse the withdrawal was played up a bit more than what would really happen for the most part. Some of it was realistic, while other parts were dramatized.

A/N3: While it's a running gag that Church can't shoot it's mostly just with the Sniper Rifle. He's shown that he can use shorter ranged guns several times. Such as the time he shot Caboose in the foot, or in the animated special in which he shot down at least two or three mooks while attached to an out of control rocket (long story). I felt a need to explain this since the gag was so prominent.


	4. The League of Red

A/N: This chapter is practically a big in joke for Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter fans.

* * *

Dexter Grif and Dick Simmons sat in what was once the Blood Gulch Settlement's most popular supermarket. More specifically they were is what had been the bread aisle, eating oreos and getting as drunk as they could with what little alcohol they had left. Since the bombing took place they and their crew, what seemed to have been left of it anyway, set up shop in the store. Unfortunately it would seem all that remained of the team was their self proclaimed leader, Sarge, Simmons and Grif themselves. Them and Grif's younger sister Kaikaina. Or Kai, as she was normally referred to due to Sarge's inability to pronounce her full name. More commonly just called Sister for simplicity's sake. Oh, and the weird kid Sarge had picked up a little before things went to hell. A bizarre little group to be perfectly honest.

"Hey, Simmons."

"Hmm?"

"You remember that time we all used a porta potty for a heist?"

Simmons smiled, that had been his first job with the crew. Things had been so much better back then.

* * *

To say Dick had been surprised when he received a letter at his door saying that they needed someone with his skills would be an understatement. Who "they" were and what work he'd be doing was not detailed on the letter. Just a time and a place to show up at. While common sense would indicate that he report the vague letter to the police, the fact of the matter was that he had no job. This had been a major problem with the relocation process. Those who volunteered to go on the pilgrimage had been assured jobs. Those who were "selected" due to the lack of volunteers were not assured this. He hadn't been a volunteer, and unlike many people Dick hadn't been able to find a job despite all the open positions. No one wanted him. So given that he was under threat of being homeless on an alien planet due to an inability to pay rent he decided to take the opportunity.

When he'd gotten to the address he was confused to find out it was a laundromat. Then he'd been roughly whacked upside the head and knocked out. He'd only woken up by an annoying bird like scream.

"Ugh! It's stuck real tight, Mogar! Stuck real good!"

"You fucking moron! How old are you? You're thirty-friggin-five! How the hell do you get your finger stuck in the fucking hole of a fucking desk!"

Dick watched the odd pair. The brit, who had indeed gotten his finger stuck in a hole, squaked like a bird again as the angry, baby-ish faced man attempted to yank it out from the desk. Nearby them was a black haired man who smiled at them somewhat manically as he flipped through a comic. When said man began to speak it only seemed to make Mogar angrier.

"Hey, you try wet bread? I bet there's someway it could help this situation."

"Dude, for the love of god, if Mark pukes on me because of you I'll slit your throat in your sleep!"

After the mention of wet bread the man, Mark, had indeed begun to gag.

Mic spoke up again, "Dude, if you actually lose your finger because of this I'll totally cut mine off. McCallister and Nutt for life, man!"

Simmons couldn't tell if the man was being serious or not. Mark apparently took him at least somewhat seriously.

"Oh, dude, that means so much to me," then he made his weird bird noise again as Mogar finally unwedged his finger. Dick briefly wondered how awkward the whole situation would sound if he wrote it down. Then he realized something.

"Wait… Mark Nutt… Like the Olympics guy?!"

His outburst caused three sets of eyes to fall on him. The black haired man just said, "Oh, you're finally awake."

In response to this Mogar said, "Good. We were starting to think Sarge had just left some random ass corpse lying around."

Mark ignored both of his sarcastic friends and happily cheered, "New guy is a fan," over and over.

* * *

Soon after that debacle of an introduction Dick found himself in a room with a large round table. In addition to the three people he had previously met there were five new people in the room as well. Two of them were girls, and the last batch was another trio of guys. He sat there twiddling his thumbs, wondering what to do.

"You OK cutie," the darker skinned girl asked as she leaned towards him. In response all he could do was stammer with nothing coherent actually coming from his mouth. By this point Dick noticed that one of the men was glaring daggers at him. Considering how much he and the girl looked alike he could only assume they were relatives. Thankfully the room's door was slammed open before things had gotten even more awkward.

In strode an elderly looking man with a somewhat fanatical expression. The man immediately noticed Dick and shouted, "Ah, I see the new recruit made it here!"

Mogar spoke up, "What do you mean 'made it here,' you knocked him out and left him on the couch!?"

The old man laughed before saying, "Yup! Thems was some good times…"

"It was literally less than two hours ago," Mogar shouted.

"Um… Sorry the interrupt," Dick said shyly, "But I still have no idea who any of you people are."

"Except for me," Mark cheered happily.

Dick nodded, "Yeah, except for you."

The man folded his arms, "You might want to sit down son, this ones a doozy!"

"I'm… I'm already sitting."

* * *

After an excruciatingly long explanation on just who the group were Dick felt the need to double check and make sure he had gotten everything right.

Pointing to the old man he said, "So, to get this straight, you're Sarge and because you hated how the justice system in the settlement was run you decided to be the main benefactor of a crime syndicate?"

The man nodded.

"OK… and you," he said as he pointed towards the other woman, "Are the main idea guy-er girl, and your name is... Runs 'N Guns?"

"Yeah, I thought my original name was lame so I changed it before getting deported to this shithole."

Dick briefly gave her a funny look and then pointed towards Mogar, "You're her husband and the main explosive guy."

Under his breath the black haired man muttered, "Fits his personality, don't it?"

Mogar lifted his fist into the air with a sneer as a warning. He smiled a little when the taller man cringed and put his arms up for protection. Runs 'N Guns shook her head affectionately and Dick was inwardly rolling his eyes at the display. He already knew this group was going to be tiresome.

Dick pointed at the cringing man, "You're… Tafkar McCallister?"

Tafkar stood up straight as he smiled and adjusted his glasses, "Yes, yes I am! I'm the ace. The do everything guy! Need me to do something? I'll do it and more while high!"

"...Right."

Dick looked towards Mark, "It's obvious what you do around here."

Mark nodded and started running around the small room, pretending to shoot things with a bow and arrow, occasionally switching to gun motions, and making sound effects to go along with it. Mogar and Tafkar quickly joined in, except they were both targeting Mark. The medal winner pretended to convulse, as if he really was being shot multiple times. Dick blinked at them a couple of times before moving on.

He gestured to the bearded man and the muscular man who were sitting in the corner, "You're Phil Falcon and fly plains."

Phil nodded as Dick continued, "Your name is MK and you're the muscle."

He then looked at the pair of siblings. At some point the brother had physically lifted his sister up and took her to the other side of the room. He sat there and glared at Dick throughout Sarge's whole explanation. Dick didn't know their names since Sarge had introduced them as "Dirtbag and Dirtbag's sister."

He rubbed the back of his head as he looked at them, "...Um…"

The brother scoffed, "I'm Grif the getaway driver, and this is Sister."

"I manipulate and pickpocket," she said a little too happily.

Dick sat there, just looking at the group for a long minute before sighing, "It seems like you guys have a full team. What do you need me for?"

"We need someone to get into the system and take out all those diabolical nano thingies," Sarge explained fanatically.

When Dick raised an eyebrow Grif explained, "We need someone to hack security cameras, keep the lights green, and get the schematics for the places we rob."

"Oh, I can do that. Yeah."

* * *

When he'd first been chosen as part of the relocation process he'd been excited beyond belief. He could finally get away. From that awful porcelain place he'd been forced to call home. From those awful picture perfect group of people he'd been born into. He was traveling light years away with over two thousand other people to a new beginning. He had been stupid enough to hope.

Then he found out that because he was in a state that had been banned from allowing people to volunteer to be relocated, that he'd be given shitty living conditions. He had been placed to live in an apartment that was no bigger than his mother's kitchen and told he had two months to find a job before he had to start paying rent. His job search had stretched past that point by three months and he was now in serious debt. Dick smiled at the computer as he continued to hack his way into some security cameras. Once this heist was over he'd be swimming in cash like Scrooge Fucking Mcduck.

* * *

Just a few days before the heist took place he'd gotten used to being referred to by his last name. It had very quickly become a rule due to Tafkar's inability to act mature whenever the name "Dick" made it into the conversation. Apparently Grif was in the same boat. Whenever his name was said out loud Mark would take out his phone and blast the theme from _Dexter's Labratory _as loud as physically possible. That or MK would question if he's eaten… well, you know. At that point in time it had been the only similarity between the two.

* * *

By his second week with the group he had all the information they had needed for the heist. Simmons had quickly gotten the info to Runs 'N Guns, who proceeded to put in the final tweaks to the plan. Thankfully things came together swiftly thanks to Sarge supplying guns, protection gear, and clothes. Simmons looked down distastefully at the bright orange shirt he'd been forced to wear. He wasn't even going into the field but the rest of the crew had insisted that they all be color coordinated.

Currently he sat with the rest of the group as Runs 'N Guns explained the plan, "Alright, now that Sister, Mogar and I, also known as Team Boom Boom, have successfully blended with the rest of the bankers under are bs fake identities it's time for part B of the plan."

"Team Boom Boom are going to be the only ones working tomorrow. Once Simmons cuts the security feed we're going to put the bombs in place. During this time Team Bus Boys, MK and Falcon, are going to acquire two transit buses. As this goes on Team Happy Sniper is going to get to the top of the opposing building and be ready for any cops that might come by."

"This is the most important part! Tafkar, you are Team Doody. You are going to hook up a portapotty to the back of the truck. After that you are going to take it to the front entrance. Once it's there MK and Falcon will form a wall between the truck and the rest of the world. Once we set this up we at Team Boom Boom will blow the vault open. Then we'll get as much of the gold as we can into the potty. Once done with that we're going to leave you guys and meet up with Team Fast and Furious and get the fuck out of there."

She then drew lines on the map that was taped to the wall, showing what routes everyone was going to take and where the meet point was.

If only things had gone that well…

* * *

The first problem facing the plan was that Mark had scaled the wrong building, making his vantage point much less so. The second problem was actually acquiring the portapotty. For whatever ungodly reason the construction workers had placed it a top of a four story building that was still being completed. Simmons used a neighborhood watch camera he'd hacked to watch Tafkar scale up the rafters. Once he finally got to it he kicked the blue thing right off the building. Simmons was genuinely impressed that it had actually landed in the bed of the truck.

Eventually they had managed to get the truck and buses in position. Once they did and the security was officially done Team Boom Boom did their thing… only for them all to have been too close to the blast radius. The trio rolled on the ground in pain from their ringing ears as Mogar swore up a storm. Thankfully they recovered and quickly started collecting the bars of gold. Unfortunately gold was much heavier than any of them realized. MK and Tafkar left their posts in order to help speed the process around. This left Falcon and Mark to deal with the firefight outside.

Falcon hadn't been prepared for this and ran out of bullets. Simmons used his ear piece to tell him and MK to switch places. After they swapped out it became a frickin blood bath due to Mark and MK's combined skill. Simmons had briefly wondered if this was what watching a snuff film was like. Once they finally got enough gold Team Boom Boom made their way out the back, which shockingly enough wasn't swamped in police, and made it over to Grif. MK quickly got into his bus and drove off, doing his best to provide cover for Tafkar and Falcon as they made their getaway. After this was all said and done everyone realized that Mark had no getaway vehicle. This was quickly remedied when the man delivered a flying kick right to the head of a moped owner, and then drove off with said moped while screaming, "Suck my nut!"

While gold didn't mean as much as it had about 50 years ago, it was still valuable. A portion of the money was given out to the poor, something Simmons was fine with given he had been in the same boat not long ago. After this the crew divided the rest up. They all waited a month before they started spending any of it in order to avoid suspicion.

* * *

The first thing Simmons did was pay off his debt. The second thing he did was buy an actual house. It wasn't a big house, only two bedrooms and a single bathroom, but it suited him just fine. At least until he had some uninvited house guests.

"Why are you in my house? Actually, scratch that. How did you get into my house!?"

"I broke the lock," Grif said nonchalantly as he flipped through what little channels the planet had.

"_Why?_"

"Me and Sister are moving in. Didn't I tell you?"

"No, you didn't! I don't even remember agreeing to this!"

* * *

Simmons punched Grif in the shoulder, nearly causing the other man to choke on his drink.

"Ow - What was that for, dipshit?!"

"For moving in without my permission," Simmons slurred angrily.

"Wait… are you seriously drunk already?"

"...No."

"You are! God, you're such a fuckin light weight!"

"Am not!"

"Are too," Sister yelled from somewhere else in the store.

"Why did we even _need_ the portapotty!?"

Grif shrugged, "Would you go look for gold in a shitter?"

* * *

A/N2: All characters mentioned to be in the crew were loosely based on various members of the Achievement Hunters. Instead of their actual names their expys were given the various stage names (ex. MAAAAARK NUUUUTT!) that the members have used at some point. Except for Jack, who's expy's name was based on a minor role he played in the actual show.

Phil Falcon (Jack), Mark Nutt (Gavin), MK (Mad King Ryan), Mogar (Michael), Runs 'N Guns (Lindsay) and Tafkar (Ray).

A/N3: When writing this chapter I wondered what conceivable reason would Red Team be sticking around each other. This is what happened.


End file.
